Warmth
by Lynne Waters
Summary: Short Wranduin drabble.


Rage consumed his body. He wanted to rip into everyone and destroy anything that got too close. A snarl escaped his lips as he grabbed a nearby glass and shattered it across the wall. Pleasure rushed over him for a brief moment as he watched the shards scatter across the floor. But as quickly as relief came, it was replaced with anger. He growled again, fire rushing from his mouth. How badly he wanted to burn this Titan-forsaken place down. How much he wanted to rip and claw the plush pillows until they were ribbons on the floor.

His arms stretched out and Wrathion switched to his true-form. The growing dragon rushed towards the small nest of pillows and proceeded to do just want they wanted. Within moments, the pillows and soft blankets were shredded into nothing but scraps of fabric and few floating feathers. One of the feathers landed on his nose and he snorted a jet of flame at it, amusing himself with the way it caught on fire. Small wings brought him airborne and Wrathion proceeded to repeat the process with the rest of the feathers. To him, it felt like flying through a meteor shower that he was controlling. An act of nature that he was creating. It was exhilarating.

It was only when a still lit feather caught fire to the wooden floor that the dragon gave a small yelp. He attempted to grab a nearby blanket in order to stamp out the growing flames, but all he managed to do was make the flames larger.

"RIGHT!? LEFT!?" he screamed, fearful that the fire would spread to the rest of the inn. In a last ditch attempt, he threw his own body against the growing flames. For a moment the warmth overwhelmed him and he again found that peaceful feeling. The way the fire surrounded his small form, made him happy, made him feel safe.

Cold water poured over his head, dowsing the fire and Wrathion's momentary joy. His red eyes darted upwards, already forming into a scowl. The expression did not leave as he met the bright blue eyes of his princely counterpart. Anduin looked tired and, strangely enough, a bit peeved.

"What on Azeroth are you doing?" Anduin asked a note of irritation plain in his voice. Wrathion noticed he was leaning heavily on his cane, his free hand holding a now empty bucket. A glance to the door found a startled pandaren maid from whom the bucket had come.

"Venting," Wrathion answered simply, pulling himself up to a sitting position. He would not cower before a mere _human_ prince, regardless of any personal feelings.

Anduin sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. He seemed to be doing that the more he stuck about the inn and around Wrathion. The dragon was now turned back to him and Anduin, with a roll of his eyes, turned to the maid. "Sorry about that," he said, handing her the now empty bucket.

She took it with a wide-eyed expression, which slowly turned into a smile. "I'm sure Uncle Tong will appreciate his inn not burning down." She bowed and turned to leave the room. "Perhaps," she added, "you should stay and make sure he does not start another fire. I'll go fetch him some new bed sheets."

"Thank you, Yin." The maid bowed again and left the princes alone in the room. Anduin shut the door as she left, taking care not to slam it. Wrathion continued to ignore him, opting instead to clean his dark scales. With another roll of his eyes, Anduin made his way towards the destroyed bed and, after testing its stability, sat down. It was a cool day on the Veiled Stair, and his injured leg was acting up again. He knew from experience, that trying to approach the dragon when he was in one of his moods would not end well for him or his fingers.

It was a game neither of them enjoyed, but also a game neither of them wanted to lose. They did have their pride after all. Figuring that Wrathion was not going to talk to him anytime soon, Anduin decided to work on healing the ache in his leg. As he forced himself to adopt his meditative stance Anduin took a few breaths to steady himself. He reached out to the Light and was quickly embraced by its warmth. Within moments, the healing aura directed itself towards his injured limb. Normally, he had to focus on redirecting the Light to heal others, but for once was grateful to be able to relax in its grace.

For Anduin, the Light was like walking into the bright sun on a perfect spring day. It was in its comfort that he found his safety. Once he had even imagined the Light was like a mother's embrace, a feeling he'd never really known. He took a few more deep breaths, allowing his body to sink further into the calming ocean that surrounded him. He couldn't help but to smile as he allowed the seas to envelop his soul.

As he relaxed, his chest began to grow heavy, and he felt himself returning to reality. He felt a warmth touching his cheek, more pronounced than the Light. His eyes fluttered opened and met with Wrathion's curious red. The dragon was sitting on his lap; head tilted slightly like a confused kitten. Anduin cocked an eyebrow, silently asking what the dragon was doing.

"You were warm," he replied simply and curled up into Anduin's lap. "Do not stop on my account."

Anduin sighed and closed his eyes again. "No more fires?" Wrathion let out a grunt of agreement and with a smile, the priest returned to his trance.


End file.
